


Death of Me

by Legendgrass



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Deviation From Canon, F/F, Redemption, Temporary Character Death, Violence, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendgrass/pseuds/Legendgrass
Summary: “You actually did it.”It hurt more than she thought it would.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

They were fighting, like always.

Catra had lunged headlong into the altercation, claws out and teeth bared for blood, like always.

They had gravitated to an isolated section of the battlefield to face each other one-on-one, completely absorbed in each other in a violent mockery of the way they’d once done, like always.

They met as nemeses, like always.

But Adora—this time, she was different.

No longer did she hold a look of hopeful desperation in her eyes that peaked during every pause in their battle, like maybe that had been the final slash of Catra’s claws in their grueling struggle; maybe the last insult thrown between two who shouldn’t have been enemies; maybe the last time betrayer and betrayed (whomever that happened to be at the time) would ever have to hurt each other. No; there was no longer a hesitation of her hand before she struck. No longer a valiant, pathetic attempt to pull her punches in order to somehow make up for everything she’d already done to Catra.

She was no longer treating Catra like a fragile hope, but a lost cause.

Catra couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than the Adora of always before. 

If she let her feral side—the side that had ripped those scars into She-Ra’s back; that had pulled the lever and opened the portal; that had let herself drop into the abyss on the other side—consider, then this seemed like the perfect development. This was the excuse she’d always wanted to tear Adora apart without regret: if the princess was no longer holding back, then she had no reason to either. She could kill Adora and convince herself that it was self-defense, when the guilt came.

But if she was honest with herself—with Catra; the _real_ Catra she’d buried deep down—it scared the hell out of her.

The whole foundation of their fighting dynamic had just dropped out from beneath her feet. She could no longer count on Adora to wait a split second too long to launch her strike, giving Catra an opening to land one of her own. She could no longer count on making it out of every fight with hardly a scratch, but leaving Adora torn to tatters. She could not, in fact, even count on making it out of this fight alive, if the look in this new Adora’s eyes was anything to judge by.

It was the same look she’d had after the portal. Hard. Cold. Impersonal. Unforgiving.

Deadly.

The blade of the Sword of Protection felt just as deadly as it swung at her time and again, biting into her skin for the first time ever whenever she was a hair too slow. Which was happening more than she’d like.

Catra had always been able to hold her own against the so-called legendary She-Ra. She’d been the only one to do so, in fact, which was a huge point of pride for Catra. _Not so perfect after all, Adora_ , it had made her think. _Not so unstoppable after all._

_Bet you’re second-guessing choosing that fucking sword over me now, huh?_

But as it turned out, She-Ra really was more than Catra could handle on her own—now. When she was angry. When she was determined. When she was finished chasing after Catra in the tenuous hope that she might see the light and turn.

Catra couldn’t blame her.

But that didn’t make this any easier.

Catra was losing. That was the simple truth. Her stamina was running dry whilst She-Ra’s only seemed to grow, and with every exchange she lost a little more ground; a little more blood. With every ragged breath her usual cocky, condescending demeanor was crumbling away, and every flake it lost revealed the raw, true fear beneath.

Catra found now that she didn’t want to die; not truly. But the realization had hit her too late.

She no longer got a choice in the matter.

“Adora,” she gasped out in desperate appeal, remembering the time at the Northern Reach when she had first felt truly _afraid_ at the other end of She-Ra’s sword. This time was worse, because there was no First Ones virus making She-Ra hostile and angry and dangerous. There was no outside force influencing the warrior goddess into wanting to hurt Catra. This time, she truly _did_ want to hurt her—as Adora.

And that put a cold, complete feeling of fear in Catra’s chest that nestled right alongside the jagged edge of regret. _She’d_ pushed Adora to this point. _She_ was responsible for antagonizing her old best friend; for molding her into an enemy who would no longer flinch at the notion of running her through. She’d brought this hatred upon herself, knowing every step of the way that she was only digging her grave deeper and deeper. She’d been willing to throw away everything simply to get back at Adora, and now all that was back to bite her in the ass.

She’d broken the world to punish Adora, and now she was going to face the consequences.

It hurt more than she thought it would.

The Sword of Protection cleaved the air as She-Ra unleashed all her righteous fury in a crushing final blow. Even Catra was not fast enough to skip out of the way this time. The blue blur blazed across the distance between them and into her flesh and bone.

_Oh._

It fucking hurt.

Catra wondered if this is the way Adora felt when she’d left her to die in the Crystal Castle. Or when she’d opened the portal to destroy everything she loved. Or when she refused to follow her even after their attempt at a second chance.

Catra gasped, but the air wouldn’t fill her lungs. It was halted by the blood clogging her throat—the blood she now coughed out onto She-Ra’s blinding white doublet. Her eyes were frozen wide, not surprised, but still shocked that after all this time; after everything they’d been through; after everything she’d done—

“You actually did it.”

The words came out on a wheeze and her voice was rougher even than usual. Her hands closed around the blade impaling her chest, just an inch right of her sternum, shaking. She hardly noticed when the edge cut her palms. All she could comprehend was pain. 

She-Ra didn’t remove the sword. When Catra looked up at her through hazy eyes, her jaw was set but those eyes—those blue eyes that were so like Adora’s and yet so different, so alien—were full of panic. That didn’t make much sense. She’d meant to stab Catra, after all. Maybe Catra was just hallucinating.

She dragged in a painful, rattling breath and sank to her knees as the feeling in her limbs began to fade. She-Ra knelt with her, flickering back into a more familiar form in a ripple of gold. That didn’t make much sense either, but Catra was past trying to make sense of what was happening. Her vision was darkening at the edges and she didn’t even hate the way it narrowed her focus to Adora and only Adora.

“Ad—” Her attempt to speak was cut off by a groan and a cough. An eruption of more blood. She could feel it on the front of her shirt, too, sliding down her abdomen in streams of misleading warmth. She was afraid to touch it; afraid to look at it.

She was going to die. The knowledge dawned on her gently, casually, as if it weren’t the most terrifying realization a mortal could ever have. She should have felt more afraid, but her senses seemed distant, fuzzy, as if they belonged to someone else. Even the pain was fading.

Catra slumped forward with a strangled sigh, hardly caring that the movement only sent the Sword of Protection deeper into her body. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She was slipping. This was it.

She blinked to clear her eyes for one last look at Adora, who was pale as a sheet and frozen in place like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She really was beautiful. Catra had always thought so. She hated her for it for longer than not, but she’d always thought so. Her gray-blue eyes, though afraid, were a sort of comfort to Catra now, in her last moments. She’d missed the way those eyes used to look at her. She’d missed the tenderness; the care. Somewhere along the line, she’d buried those feelings deep. She’d twisted them into fuel for her hatred and honed them into a vicious tool to use against the girl she…the girl she loved.

She missed Adora. She couldn’t remember exactly why they’d been fighting, now. All she wanted was to trade the feeling of the blade in her chest for that of Adora’s warm, gentle arms around her, but that was impossible now.

Anything but slipping slowly into death was impossible now, and Catra deeply regretted that.

Her breathing was shallow, wet. She couldn’t feel anything. She reached for Adora anyway.

“Ad-Adora,” she managed this time. She could see that Adora took her trembling hand; she could see the tears in those gray-blue eyes, but she could not feel even that. Even though the sword was still in her chest, it felt as if a gaping hole were in its place instead. An empty pit; the cavern that had once held the true Catra, abandoned long ago.

Adora pressed Catra’s hand to her cheek and those tears spilled over. Catra couldn’t remember why she was crying.

But, “I’m sorry,” she mumbled through bloodied lips, hoping it would make Adora feel a little better.

_I’m sorry._

Then her eyelids fluttered closed and she knew no more.

…


	2. Chapter 2

“I am not going to kill Catra.”

Adora said it firmly, sternly. Her unwavering figure was reminiscent of her warrior goddess form even as she stood in her Horde reds with her hair tied back. Her arms were crossed, her feet braced, her jaw set. She looked ready to go to war over this (she had, before).

Glimmer pressed on as if she didn’t even notice. “You have to.” She faced Adora from the seat next to the queen’s at the council table, still unable to take her mother’s place just yet.

They had just concluded the latest Rebellion war meeting. Everyone had agreed that it was time to make a decisive move against the Horde; go on the offensive now, while the enemy was still reeling from the aftermath of the portal. Plus—if it could be counted as a plus—Shadow Weaver was on their side.

Adora had agreed right up until Glimmer explained exactly _how_ she wanted to cripple the Horde.

“No!” she cried for seemingly the hundredth time since the other princesses had been dismissed from the room. She grunted in frustration and gripped her forehead with one hand. “You guys sound just like Light Hope.” When she looked up at her two friends, her eyes were big and pleading. “Can’t we come up with a plan that _doesn’t_ involve me killing Catra?” As much as she tried to control it, her voice wavered noticeably on the last bit.

Glimmer still did not care. “She killed my mom!”

Bow grimaced awkwardly, still trying to play the peaceful mediator even as the two girls’ frustrations escalated on either side of him. “She’s not— _dead_ ,” he corrected, raising a finger to emphasize the technicality.

And, though he may have been right, “She’s effectively dead!” Glimmer fumed, turning her sparking magenta gaze on him with blazing intensity. When he cowered a little in his seat, the new queen returned her focus to Adora to explain tightly, almost grudgingly, “Look. We’re not _actually_ asking you to kill Catra. Even though she deserves it.” She said the last part in a low growl.

Adora’s expression crumpled in confusion. “You’re not?”

“What we want you to do is _almost_ kill her,” Bow specified, smiling as if now the idea were infinitely more comforting.

It was not.

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah. It’s the perfect plan,” Glimmer backed him up. She crossed her arms in an authoritative echo of Adora’s pose and explained, “We give her one more chance to see the light.”

“It will be a huge wake-up call,” Bow put in.

“And if she doesn’t change her mind after that…” Glimmer trailed off and shrugged, feigning a very weak façade of regret.

“But she will!” the archer assured quickly. “So we don’t need to worry about that.”

Adora looked between them for a long moment, painfully unconvinced. She dreaded asking the next question, but figured she didn’t have much choice. The two of them seemed like they’d already discussed this without her and decided it really was their best option. She was outvoted. “So how am I supposed to do this?” she ventured with a sigh.

“Stab her, silly,” Glimmer provided with a roll of her eyes like that was the most ridiculous question—like she hadn’t just given the most ridiculous _answer—_ ever.

“ _What!_ ” Adora practically shrieked. Couldn’t they try something a little less…you know, deadly? “So how do I make sure I don’t accidentally _actually_ kill her?”

“You’re She-Ra!” Bow explained brightly, like that was a reassuring fact and not the absolute root of the problem.

“That’s actually way less comforting than people realize.”

“What he means is, you can heal people,” Glimmer said in a more measured tone, although it had the perhaps intended side effect of coming across extremely patronizing. Of course. It was much easier to act calm when you didn’t care a lick for the proposed victim. “You just poke her with the sword, wait till her blood and guts are spilled all over the floor—“

“Okay! Okay. I get it,” Adora cut her off before her explanation got even more graphic. She _got_ it, but she very much did not _like_ it. She would honestly try _anything_ else before happily agreeing to stab Catra to the point of death. Or…almost death. But nobody else cared whether she was happy about it. All they cared about was beating the Horde, and if this seemed like the best way to do it then she didn’t get a choice. She was She-Ra, the protector of the people. She was pretty much designed to do whatever they wanted. And if they wanted her to be a heartless weapon, well, that was her fate. Shoulders slumping in defeat, she demanded weakly, “Whose idea was this, again?”

“Glimmer’s,” Bow volunteered.

“Right. Of course.”

Glimmer either took that as an expression of agreement or willfully ignored the heavy sarcasm imbued in the statement, because she plowed on decisively, “So it’s settled, then?”

“No!” Adora could not sit here and take this any longer. She was sick of being run over; pushed to the side by the popular vote because she was She-Ra, as if that meant she had less say instead of more. She was the face of the Rebellion, yes, but she was also the Princess of Power, for Hordak’s sake! Shouldn’t she be able to decide whom she wanted to stab and whom she didn’t? “It’s not settled! Nothing is settled! This is a terrible idea.” She re-crossed her arms stubbornly.

Glimmer faced her with the stubbornness to match. “Do you have a better one?”

Adora didn’t, not _yet,_ but she wasn’t about to admit that. Instead she insisted, “I’m not going to _almost_ kill my—my—“ _Crap._ She’d slipped. Maybe her friends didn’t notice.“ _Catra,_ just to—“

“Adora,” Glimmer cut her off, an edge in her voice but somehow gentler than before. She stood and rounded the table to Adora and reached out to grip her hands, unwinding her belligerently crossed arms. Even in the midst of her queenly new look, her magenta eyes were still familiar. They held Adora’s earnestly. “She has to be stopped. After everything she did…you know that.” She gave Adora’s hands a comforting squeeze when the blonde dropped her eyes regretfully. “If we don’t try something now, you might not get another option later.”

Bow, too, stood and moved to Adora’s shoulder. The presence of her two friends beside her was admittedly comforting, but not nearly enough to soften the hard truth they were pushing. Especially when the archer clarified gently, caringly, “You might actually have to do it.”

“I know! I know.” Adora knew better than anyone. _She_ was the one who had to face her old friend on the battlefield every time they engaged the Horde. _She_ was the one who had to look into those two-toned eyes and try to trick herself into believing they were the eyes of her enemy and not the girl she’d known so well. _She_ was the one who would feel it like her own heart being ripped out if Catra ever really did die. And if it happened at her _own_ hands to boot, she wasn’t sure she would make it. Gripping her head, trying to push away morbid thoughts of a world without Catra in it, Adora turned away from her friends and their expectant eyes. It took her several deep breaths to work up the nerve to admit, “I’m just afraid that…maybe she _still_ won’t change her mind, even if…even if I…”

“Adora,” Glimmer interrupted gently. She followed Adora’s retreat, stepping close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds; the manifestation of all the responsibility resting squarely on her shoulders. “None of this is your fault,” the queen soothed. “No matter what she chooses, it’s not your fault.”

Adora was silent, because as much as she wanted to believe that, she knew better.

“You’ve got this, Adora,” Bow encouraged as well, placing his hand on her other shoulder.

Adora still knew better.

…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all remember how Glimmer 1) lent Shadow Weaver the power to torture Catra when they infiltrated the Horde in s3 and 2) all but made fun of Adora for her issues with Shadow Weaver in s4? She is definitely capable of cruelty when it's a means to an end she thinks is right. I do use that as a convenient plot device in this fic, but she's definitely earned some canonical Uncool points, too

Now Adora had to face the reality of what she’d done. The terrifying prospect of Catra— _her_ Catra—fading away in front of her eyes, unrepentant. The thought of having to live the rest of her life with the blood of her best friend on her hands. 

A crystal-clear image flashed behind her eyes: Catra, only a few moments from now, lifeless. Her wiry body no longer taut with power and energy but limp and weak. Her gemstone eyes no longer gleaming with mischief or flashing in anger but empty, flat, dull. Her skin no longer radiating warmth that sent a thrill through Adora whenever she was close, but cold. Dead. She was _dead._

And Adora couldn’t bear it.

“What have I done,” she gasped out as she snapped back to reality, where Catra was not yet dead but dangerously close. Adora realized her hand was still on the sword, which was still buried in Catra’s bleeding chest, and snatched it away to stare at it in horror. “What have I _done?_ ” As if in response, the feline gave a weak croak in her half-conscious state and it sent an arrow of both ice-cold guilt and red-hot determination shooting through Adora’s insides. She should never have listened to Glimmer and Bow. She should never have agreed to hurt her friend like this. She was supposed to _help_ people, not stab them! She had to heal Catra whether she decided to repent or not. 

“Hold on,” she pleaded with newfound conviction. She leaned over the feline’s fallen form and took hold of the sword again, preparing to pull it out. Her other hand came to rest over the ragged wound. She could heal it. She _would_ heal it. “Hold on, Catra. I’m so sorry.” Her voice fell to a pained whisper as she felt her friend’s blood pooling under her palm. “I can fix this.”

She didn’t wait another second before closing her eyes and allowing She-Ra’s warm flow of power to trickle into her through the sword, gathering in a molten well somewhere deeper than her heart. She’d been practicing this since the portal, determined to make herself as useful as possible in the fight against the Horde. She’d honed her skills with Light Hope’s help to the point that she didn’t even need to be in full princess form to use it. She could pull the energy straight through the sword into her own body and channel it like a piece of She-Ra had become a permanent part of her. She hoped it would work this time.

The warm energy began to burn, and Adora closed her eyes as the searing feeling radiated through her skin in the form of a golden glow. It intensified until it was almost painful to witness, even through her tightly screwed eyelids, and that’s when Adora directed it gently toward the hand that covered Catra’s wound. It flowed down her arm the same way it had flowed into her from the sword, leaving a trail of flame tingling in her veins.

As the radiance hit Catra and the wounded girl let out a gasp, Adora began to pull the sword from her body with her other hand. She couldn’t do it too fast, or the subsequent loss of blood would outpace the healing flow, so she forced her movement slow and steady as She-Ra’s power did its work.

Once her eyes adjusted to the bright light, Adora was able to crack them open to watch the process. She could see Catra’s wound healing in real time—muscle stitching back together to be gradually covered by new, scar-pale skin—and she let out a long breath of relief. Moments later she was able to pull the sword from Catra’s flesh entirely and toss it away with a clatter, loathe to even look at it right now. In its absence she pressed both hands to the wound to speed along its final steps.

The glow faded as the healing waxed complete. Adora could feel the warmth of Catra’s skin under her palms and it was almost as comforting as the steady rise and fall of her chest that accompanied it. Though her tawny skin was pale, she was alive, and that was all Adora cared about. All she had ever cared about.

Reluctantly, the princess let her hands slip away from the wound to let Catra breathe unimpeded. She had the urge to relocate them to the feline’s own hand and grip it tightly, and because she was too relieved to care about the consequences right now, she did just that.

At the touch, Catra stirred weakly. “Adora?” All she could manage was a rough, barely audible croak, but Adora heard it as if she’d shouted.

“Yeah,” she responded gently, rubbing her thumb over the other girl’s knuckles soothingly. Trying to make up for the violently contrasting touch she’d administered just minutes ago. _How could I have done that?_ She hoped vehemently that Catra would forgive her. At the same time, she knew how likely that was. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Adora,” the feline repeated, a little stronger this time. She let out a groan and her eyes fluttered open and slowly slid to Adora’s. The blonde almost cried at the sight of that lovely blue and gold —bright and alive. Still alive. “Adora, I’m sorry. I’m—”

The last thing Adora expected was for _Catra_ to start crying. But as her words caught in her throat and her two-toned eyes locked on Adora’s face and the weight of what had just _happened_ came crashing down, the tears were inevitable. A sob left Catra’s throat as her expression crumpled and she reached for her old friend as if she hadn’t just stabbed her within an inch of death. As if no angst or anger or bloodshed had happened between them in the last several months. As if they could just be Adora and Catra again.

Adora surged gladly into the embrace, sliding her own arms carefully around the smaller girl and pulling her close to feel her heartbeat against her own chest. As if she was agreeing that none of that had happened. _Begging_ to agree to just be Adora and Catra again. And the comfort of Catra’s living warmth was powerful enough to smother the guilt and allow her to, for now. Powerful enough for her to say, “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” and be absolutely convinced of every word. Catra’s fingers curling tightly into Adora’s jacket said that she felt it too.

But of course the moment could not last.

A flash of pink sparkles and a tinkling trill marked Bow and Glimmer’s entrance. “Adora!” Glimmer cried expectantly as she materialized. In a single glance she took in the sight: Adora on her knees, Catra in her arms with a bloody tear down the middle of her shirt but no wound underneath, the Sword of Protection discarded. She beamed. “Did it work?”

_Oh no._ There was the guilt again. Before she could stop herself, Adora glanced down at Catra in a panic.

Catra was pulling back slowly, carefully, to meet her eyes. There was a shadow coming over hers to replace the relief they’d just been basking in. “Adora?” she asked uncertainly, voice still hoarse. Her fingers began to relax their desperate grip. _No. No, no, no,_ Adora thought frantically _._ “This was…just a setup?”

Adora could feel their momentary bond dissipating like mist. “No!” she blurted, too loud, unconvincing. She stared into Catra’s gemstone irises with panic in her own, terrified that after everything she’d just end up screwing this up again. “No, Catra. I—” She couldn’t lose Catra again. She _couldn’t._ The first time had broken her heart, and she doubted that she could make it through a second. Catra was too important. And if her friends didn’t agree with her, well, she supposed she would have to make that sacrifice. Because she was done ignoring what her heart was screaming at her.

When the feline began to pull away from her _again,_ that was the last straw.

Adora whipped around to face Bow and Glimmer with her jaw set in vicious determination. “No,” she said strongly. “I didn’t heal her for you guys. I didn’t do it for the Rebellion, or the princesses, or Etheria, or the greater good.” She looked back at Catra, and her expression softened even as her grip tightened around her, not letting her go this time. “I did it because I can’t hurt Catra anymore. Not like this.”

The stunned pause didn’t last long. Glimmer let out a groan of frustration and threw her hands up in the air. “I should have known this would happen!” she lamented, bringing one hand to the bridge of her nose so she could scowl into it. “You’re still attached! Even after everything that’s happened.”

Adora returned her glare twofold. “Attachments don’t have to mean weakness, Glimmer,” she maintained, feeling for all the world like she was arguing with Light Hope.

“But she’s done horrible things!” Glimmer cried, gesturing to the feline practically cradled in Adora’s arms. “People have _died_ because of her!”

“Didn’t you hear her? She’s sorry!” Adora was losing patience. _All_ of them had done things they weren’t proud of, including Glimmer. Adora had been a _part_ of the Horde, for Etheria’s sake! It was true that Catra’s deeds were worse than most, objectively, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t atone for them. That didn’t earn her a death sentence.

Glimmer fumed. “ _Sorry_ doesn’t cut it. _Sorry_ doesn’t bring my mom back!”

Adora’s anger was rising to match. Why couldn’t Glimmer just _try_ to understand for one measly second? Of _course_ she missed Angella, but two wrongs didn’t make a right. Tensely, deliberately, the blonde extricated herself from Catra and stood, positioning herself in front of her protectively. Facing her friends as if she were ready to fight them over this, because she _was._ “Killing Catra won’t bring her back either,” she said firmly.

“I can’t believe this.” Glimmer scoffed and turned to Bow for backup, but the archer didn’t look like he altogether agreed. He was staring at Catra with his dark brows furrowed intently; evaluating. Calculating. That only frustrated the new queen further. She turned back with a snarl. “Adora, she’s _evil!_ ”

“People can change,” Adora maintained stubbornly. “You just have to give her a chance.”

A shuffle from the ground behind her signalled that Catra was trying to rise. Adora turned instantly to help her; to demonstrate her sincerity, but the feline brushed her proffered hand away. She climbed to her feet alone, waited until she stopped swaying, and then shouldered gently past the blonde to face the Bright Moon queen herself. Her shoulders were taut with lingering pain. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Oh, sure, furball,” Glimmer spat sarcastically. “What do _you_ have to say for yourself?”

Catra stared her right in the eyes, deadly serious. She took a deep breath before speaking. “If you want me dead, kill me. I deserve it.” Adora made a noise of protest, but Catra cut her off with a raised hand. “—but do it yourself. Don’t force Adora into it. She can’t.” The feline looked back and met her friend’s eyes with an excruciating mixture of regret, emptiness, and affection that Adora didn’t even know she still possessed. Her next words were a murmur: “I know she can’t.”

“Catra—“ Adora began to plead, but again Catra shut her down, this time with a shake of her head. Without another word she and Glimmer returned to their staredown, one side heated, the other devoid of any temperature at all.

A second or a century could have passed while Adora stood there, waiting for the shockwave of her two worlds colliding to flatten her into ash.

Glimmer was the first to crack. She looked away with an angry _tch_ , her whole body vibrating with anger. “ _Whatever._ But she’s _your_ responsibility, Adora.” She emphasized it with a jab of her finger. “If she destroys the world again it is _your_ fault, and we won’t be there to help you pick up the pieces.”

“Fine,” Adora agreed calmly, even as her insides were melting into a pool of mixed relief and dread. She hoped dearly that this wouldn’t come back to bite her. She hoped even more dearly that Catra would be open to the idea and not just bent on ignoring her for the rest of her days. She hoped this sacrifice would be worth it.

“Fine!” returned Glimmer much less calmly. Without warning she grabbed onto Bow and the two vanished in a huffy puff of sparkles, leaving Adora and Catra staring at the spot they’d just vacated.

Left alone, a silence stretched long enough between them to become awkward, then uncomfortable, then unbearable. Sometime in the middle of it, Adora turned to look at Catra, and Catra slowly lifted her head to meet Adora’s eyes. Hers looked…dull. 

_So much has happened between us,_ Adora realized with a rush of regret. _None of it good._

“So you really had to stab me, huh?” Catra finally broke the silence, sounding just as painfully weary as Adora’s thoughts. The princess couldn’t read the look behind her deadened eyes.

Adora lowered her head in shame. The image of Catra bleeding out at her hand would cause her nightmares for years to come. She wished not for the first time that she’d simply refused her friends’ plan. She should have been stronger. “Nothing else worked,” she explained weakly.

“I get it,” Catra replied to Adora’s great surprise, lowering her head as well, her ears drooping in kind. “I’m—” Her throat jumped in a swallow like it was physically challenging to get the next words out: “I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

Adora let out a long sigh through her nose. She could not describe how good it felt to be _talking_ about this instead of fighting about it. She was so sick of fighting. Sick of fighting Catra. “Me too,” she breathed. She ached to pull Catra into her arms again; to rest her brow against the feline’s and simply exist with her the way they used to do a lifetime ago. But she couldn’t, so she clenched her fists at her sides and tried to take things one step at a time.

Catra forced herself to look up and meet Adora’s eyes. “I see now,” she managed, voice still constricted. Her hand half-extended toward Adora like she, too, wanted to be held, but then she stopped and let it fall. Her gaze dropped again, but not before Adora could catch the sheen of tears. “I see that everything I’ve done was awful and unforgivable and you have every right to hate me for that.”

“I don’t hate you,” said Adora instantly. Of all the things she could ever say to Catra, that one came the easiest. She had never hated her. Not even after the portal. Not even after she’d given up hope that she would ever see the light. Adora could never hate her.

Catra’s chin jerked up in surprise. Adora wondered if Catra had thought differently; if she had used the belief that Adora hated her to fuel herself into hating the world. It was not hard to believe, and that broke Adora’s heart all over again. Catra swallowed hard again before speaking. “I…I don’t hate you either,” she responded gently, so gently, as if the words might lose their truth if she held them too tight. And, it wasn’t much, but it was the best they had right now, Adora thought. Only, Catra wasn’t quite done. She looked up straight into gray-blue eyes, cleared her throat and continued, “So do you think…maybe we could try again?” 

Adora’s first thought was a resounding _yes!_ but it was not quite that cut and dried. As much as Adora disagreed with Glimmer’s tactics of late, she knew that she was right about one thing: Catra had hurt a lot of people, and that was not a sin easily forgiven. “It will take a long time to make up for what you’ve done, Catra,” she reminded, more to convince herself than the other girl.

The feline nodded stiffly. One of her hands rose to rub gingerly over the new scar in her chest. “I know.”

That motion sent a spike of guilt into Adora’s own chest, and she finally gave in to the urge to reach out and touch Catra; to comfort her somehow. She grasped that searching hand in her own and held it firmly: a promise. 

“But…I think, someday, we could.”

And the way Catra looked up at her and almost smiled, she knew it to be true.

…


End file.
